


let me hold you, taste your tears

by Bloodsbane



Series: tangled weeds in concrete cracks [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Canon Asexual Character, Crying, Dacryphilia, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hair-pulling, Illustrations, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Overstimulation, Pegging, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Spanking, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, aroace Daisy, background/implied jonmartin, degredation, nonromantic jondaisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: “Come here,” Daisy says, trying to sound annoyed rather than amused. Jon comes. She takes his chin between her fingers and inspects his face, enjoying the way he casts his eyes down and away from her. Every ounce of baggage this poor little man carries lives right there on his face: purple bruises on high cheekbones, old scars from stress-picking, silvers that shine in long, dark hair. He looks particularly defeated today, offering no resistance when Daisy tilts his head this way and that.Finally, Daisy tightens her grip and leans down, just enough to press a kiss where one old scar lies pale and distinct on his cheek. “Dinner, then,” she says, and he goes to set the table.---Jon is bad at letting himself process or express his feelings. That's why he has Daisy.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Series: tangled weeds in concrete cracks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898941
Comments: 11
Kudos: 151





	let me hold you, taste your tears

**Author's Note:**

> took me long enough to write some jondaisy, considering my inability to shut up about it over on my tumblr. this is an idea that really caught me and wouldn't let go until i got it down. 
> 
> please heed the tags! there are also a small handful of things not covered there which, while not explicitly demonstrated/addressed in the fic, might make some folks uncomfortable, so please check the end notes for content warnings.
> 
> update: i'm extremely pleased to add that this fic now has art by waterleveldropping!

Daisy still has two hours of work left when she gets the text from Jon: 

_Dinner_

_Throat_

_Lap_

_Back_

She takes a minute to mull it over, take stock of herself and decide if she'll be up for it. Eventually, Daisy responds: _din, lap first, then throat, back. cock y/n?_

Jon: _Maybe._

Daisy: _be home 7:40ish_

She ignores the anticipation blooming in her stomach while she finishes everything up. Avoids the manager on her way out. When she climbs into her car and checks her phone again, there’s a text from Basira, but Daisy ignores that too. She’s got a job to do.

The front door is unlocked when she gets to the apartment. Kicking off her shoes, Daisy takes stock. Jon’s shoes are tucked neatly where he usually puts them, but his jacket and satchel have been tossed rather haphazardly at the couch. She can smell something cooking - pasta? The scent isn’t particularly strong, with nothing to hint at it having much flavor. Also, Jon stays in the kitchen, even when Daisy flicks the lock and tosses her keys into the bowl beside the door. “Home!” she calls. 

Jon’s head pops into view from around the corner. His hair is still up, but his tie is gone, and his sleeves are rolled to the elbows. He’s wearing that tired, stubborn expression he usually has when they do this. 

“Come here,” Daisy says, trying to sound annoyed rather than amused. Jon comes. She takes his chin between her fingers and inspects his face, enjoying the way he casts his eyes down and away from her. Every ounce of baggage this poor little man carries lives right there on his face: purple bruises on high cheekbones, old scars from stress-picking, silvers that shine in long, dark hair. He looks particularly defeated today, offering no resistance when Daisy tilts his head this way and that.

Finally, Daisy tightens her grip and leans down, just enough to press a kiss where one old scar lies pale and distinct on his cheek. “Dinner, then,” she says, and he goes to set the table. 

She was right about it being pasta, but there’s not much to it. The sauce is thin and weak. Jon doesn’t even put much on their plates, having apparently made a very small batch. Daisy’s not sure how much of this is for the scene - maybe he’s just tired, or maybe he doesn’t have an appetite. Either way, she’s more than content to growl at him for it. When he wastes his ten minutes picking at his food, she feels no guilt in taking his plate and finishing it all herself. She stares him down as she eats, like she's making the decision, right then and there, he's a problem that has to be dealt with. 

The clatter of fork on plate is loud. Daisy leans back in her chair, chewing, one fist on the table as she considers what she wants to do next. They have a framework for tonight, but as usual, it’s up to Daisy to fill in the gaps.

“I gotta piss,” she says, and shoves away from the table. Before she leaves him, Daisy rests a hand near Jon and lets herself loom over him a little. For most of the dinner, he’s been looking away; he’s never been one for eye-contact anyway, but he looks particularly dejected tonight. When she’s over him, Jon glances up at her, shoulders hunched. It's easy to pretend he's nervous rather than sulking. “I expect this table clean when I get back, yeah?” 

When he doesn’t answer, she grabs both plates from her side of the table and roughly puts them down front of Jon. “Yeah? Think you can manage that, at least?”

“Yes, ma’am,” is what she receives at last. He’s quiet, but clear. There’s no sarcasm or anything else in his tone that might otherwise suggest he’s trying to be a brat. Daisy’s got the feeling that he’s going to be relatively low-energy tonight, even if his goal is clearly for something a bit more intense than their usual. 

Daisy leaves him at the table, going through her bedroom to reach the bathroom. On her way, she grabs her harness, and puts it on after using the toilet. Once she pulls her jeans back on, Daisy returns to the kitchen.

It’s a bit of a surprise, honestly, when she sees that Jon hasn’t bothered to move at all. His hands are planted firmly in his lap. His head is bowed, staring down at the plates - either that or he’s looking through them, lost in his damn head again. Daisy frowns, quirking a brow. Okay, so he really is serious about all this. Well, fine; she’s never been one to ask permission twice. 

With heavy footfalls, Daisy is at Jon’s side again, glaring down at the back of his head. She gestures flippantly to the plates. “What the hell is this?” He doesn’t reply. She raises her voice and says once, firmly, “Jon.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, spine growing rigid. 

“Sorry does not even begin to fucking cut it,” Daisy tells him. “You serious with this shit? First dinner and now this? You’re so damn pitiful. Get up. Couch, now.” 

Daisy gives his shoulder a shove on his way, just enough to make him stumble and propel him towards the couch. She follows close behind, forcing him to pick up his pace, and soon enough Daisy is seated while Jon stands before her, fists loosely clenched, his expression one of grim anticipation. 

“Pants off,” she orders, and he obeys. It’s probably a relief to have them off by now. She can’t smell any arousal on him once he’s bare, but that’s not unusual - she’s barely touched him yet. With one finger, Daisy instructs him to turn around. His ass, small and smooth, is a lovely sight after a long day at work. Daisy’s pale hands settle on Jon’s hips, thumbs digging briefly into the base of his spine, pressing just hard enough to coax a grunt out of him. Then she pulls him close, spreads his cheeks, and spits against his rim. As Jon shivers, Daisy then slides a finger inside. It goes easily, and she's glad she didn't have to instruct him to prep before she got home. 

When Daisy slips in a second finger, falling into the old, easy joy of stretching, she hears Jon make a restless noise. Daisy’s nail digs into the flesh of Jon’s ass cheek. “Problem?”

“N-no,” he mutters.

“Nah, I get it.” Daisy pulls her fingers out and wipes them on the couch. “We both know you don’t deserve any of that, not tonight.”

“I…”

“Kneel.”

There is no question in what she wants. Jon kneels first on the floor, then pulls himself up and across her thighs until his pelvis is tucked securely against one of her knees. Daisy appreciates the shape of his back, though still covered, in her lap. Takes a moment to appreciate the line that goes from neck to shoulder, the places where his body pinches his shirt, how every crease mark directs her gaze to the tension of his form. Daisy rests a heavy hand on the small of his back, pushing him down just a bit. The other ghosts across his backside.

“Why don’t you tell me what else you’ve messed up today,” Daisy suggests, her tone gentle, but brooking no argument. Jon takes a deep, shaky breath beneath her. “We both know it’s never just the one thing, with you.”

“I… I messed up.” His voice is barely louder than a whisper, and for that Daisy roughly grips one cheek, enough to pinch and burn, until he hisses and says more clearly, “I messed up! At, at work, I was- bad.”

“Bad how?”

“I kept making stupid mistakes,” Jon admits through grit teeth. “And, and I was, uh, misbehaving.”

“Oh?”

“Snapping at my- assistants. Reprimanding them for little things that didn’t matter. I was upset, so I… lashed out.”

He can’t see her, but Daisy makes the effort not to roll her eyes at this. Jon may be predictable, but she’s hardly one to judge. “Thought we talked about that,” she says instead, pulling away from his ass. She feels the way he begins to tremble, just so, beneath her other hand. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I-”

“What do you think you deserve, then,” Daisy interrupts, “for fucking up all day?”

“...Fifteen,” is the answer. 

“Ten,” Daisy corrects, and the first slap is swiftly delivered to punctuate her decision. Kept light, it was more sound than force, but Jon still gasps when it hits him, still jerks in surprise. Daisy rocks one knee up, briefly, to settle him more securely on her lap. “Don’t get ambitious, Jon. Now, how much for being a prick to your friends?”

“...F-five, at least,” he offers. “Maybe seven?”

“Hm. Seven?”

“...I think eight would be best,” he tries, and she hears the note of pleading in his voice. He must have been a nightmare today. 

“Think you’ve earned eight, then? Alright. Let’s round it up to twenty for that shit dinner and call it all square. Count.”

He counts. The first five go by in a flash, more prep than anything, settling into the rhythm. It’s easy to get lost in something like this, but Daisy has to keep herself sharp. It doesn’t do to be reckless, especially not with Jon. His voice begins to waver at nine; Daisy can feel the heat under her hand at twelve. Seventeen is what earns her the first sparks of tears. They twinkle at the very corners of Jon’s eyes when he struggles to get the number out. Daisy rewards him for it, soothing his cheeks with one hand and briefly touching his hair with the other. Jon puts his forehead to the couch cushion and tries to keep his breathing steady. 

“Seventeen,” Daisy says.

“Seventeen,” Jon agrees. 

Eighteen; nineteen - Jon flinches and cries out. Daisy can smell him, now, can feel the heat of him against the outside of her thigh. She makes sure her final strike is settled slightly lower on his thighs, just close enough to turn his shout into something resembling a moan. He wiggles in her lap, from pleasure and from pain. Daisy soaks it in but keeps him held down while she considers how to move on. 

Finally, she’s pushing him off, and as Jon struggles to his feet, she says, “Right. Now why don’t you go choose which cock you think you deserve tonight.” 

Jon, red in the face, wobbles into the bedroom. Daisy leans back on the couch and counts back from ten, bundling up the tension in her shoulders before letting every muscle loose. These little breaks are useful for keeping herself from getting too wound up before Jon’s ready. 

When he returns, it’s with the hefty, reddish dildo in his hands. It’s just long and thick enough to hurt when Daisy wants it to, with a slightly flared head. Unsurprising, considering what comes next. She takes it from Jon and then jerks a thumb back toward the kitchen. “I’m giving you a second chance to clean up one of your messes,” she tells him. “Then I’ll put you to some use. Go on, then.” 

She can’t resist giving his ass a tap on his way out, and snickers when he squeaks in surprise. 

Daisy makes quick work of settling the dildo in her harness. It’s always harder like this, keeping most of her clothes on, but it’s absolutely preferred. She likes the way it feels once it’s there, settled in her lap, straining ever so against the denim of her jeans. It looks fiercely attractive there, resting between the silver teeth of her zipper. There’s just enough at the base of it to press back against her, and she knows she’ll be getting plenty of feedback once she’s using it on Jon. 

As soon as Jon returns, she gets him on his knees. He looks so good there, between her legs, brown eyes sizing up the big red cock he chose. Daisy knows part of his restlessness is from mere discomfort, trying to settle into a position that won’t put too much pressure on his ass, but there’s a restlessness to it, too. It’s even obvious in the way his hands keep twitching, like he can’t wait to get a hold of her cock. 

Daisy spreads her legs open a bit more, just enough so there’s room to tug Jon closer. Her fingers slip into his hair, pushing until the small band keeping it tied up is gone. His hair falls in gentle waves over his shoulder, and Jon’s eyes flutter shut when she digs her nails into his scalp. His lips fall apart naturally as he’s pulled forward, and soon enough that pretty mouth is full. 

They go slow, at first. Daisy keeps a hand in his hair, but largely it’s Jon who sets the pace. He takes her in inches, pushing himself further and further down the gently ridged shaft. Then, suddenly, he pushes forward until Daisy can feel herself bumping against the back of his throat. Jon’s face wrinkles and reddens as he chokes, the noise wet and caught behind his teeth, trapped by the dildo in his mouth. He pulls back, but only for a second before choking himself again. Daisy’s grip in his hair tightens when she sees the tears pool and flow from beneath his lashes. 

“There you go,” she can’t help but say, sounding slightly breathless. She twists her fingers just enough to tilt his head at a new angle, then rocks her hips forward, holding him still while she fucks his mouth. Daisy drinks up each sloppy, grasping breath and hitched whimper. She wants to curl over him, lick the tears off his face. Instead she focuses on fucking into his throat, holding him still when he writhes and resists, just long enough to encourage the tears and help him sink deeper, deeper, into that fuzzy, quiet place in his head. 

Eventually Daisy stops, pulls him off by his hair. His eyes are half-lidded and unfocused, but he still manages a feeble protest at having her cock leave his mouth. Daisy tweeks his ear and smirks. “Got a better plan for you,” she tells him in a dark voice. “Can you stand?”

Turns out he can’t, not on his own, but that’s fine. Daisy wants him like this, a bit slow and easily pliable. She grabs him by the elbow and pulls him to his feet, keeping her grip steady as she drags him into the bedroom. For half a second she debates unbuttoning his shirt all the way and removing it, but after a quick groping, finds he’s already removed his binder. So she leaves it, merely unbuttoning the cuffs and the one at his throat, loosening his collar, before tossing him onto the bed. 

For a brief second, Jon seems to forget himself, and his hand drifts down to touch himself. Daisy catches his wrist in an iron grip and twists it back just enough for him to open his eyes wide in surprise. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” she spits down at him. “You think you’ve earned something like that? On your belly; hands off.” 

Jon obeys. His breath is a bit shaky now, and it’s music to Daisy’s ears. She quickly thumbs open a few of the buttons on her shirt, just enough to breathe, before grabbing a bottle of lube, climbing onto the bed, and settling behind Jon. With one hand, she secures his hip and lifts him slightly up, encouraging him to adjust his legs until his ass is tucked right beneath her cock. It’s a bit of a stretch, knees bent and back bowed; it makes him look so good. Daisy runs a hand along Jon’s spine, pushing up his shirt, enough to see his shoulder blades. He hums, very faintly, from her touch - she can feel it rumbling in his chest. 

Daisy generously applies lube on her cock before pushing into Jon. It’s a slow, careful process, but well worth it. She sees the way Jon’s lungs expand and collapse as he pants, fighting to take her. It would be so easy to snap her hips forward, to take him all the way, but feeling the way he has to stretch and adjust is delightful, too. Daisy closes her eyes and focuses on very gently rocking her hips, inching deeper and deeper, attention lighting every time she hears Jon hitch his breath or sigh. 

Soon she’s fully settled, and he’s a twitching, trembling, whimpering mess beneath her. He’s irresistible like this, so small, and full of her, caged by her sure grip. Here is Jon, in her apartment, on her bed, at her mercy. Daisy digs her hand into his hair and twists, licking her lips when he cries out. 

She rocks her hips and sets the pace, fucking him hard and fast. Jon’s hands scramble at the sheets and pillows, but there’s not really anything he can do other than take what she gives him. 

This is usually the difficult part, for Daisy. It’s easy to get swept up in the rhythm of it all, the heat as it swells and lights her up from the inside. But she and Jon have been doing this for a while, long enough that she can tell what he needs, and she wants to give it to him. So Daisy keeps her wits about her, focuses on fucking Jon until there’s hardly any of him left. Soon he’s little more than a mess of desperate cries and nonsensical pleas, begging her for something he doesn’t have half a mind to recall. 

It’s easy to tell when he’s close to breaking down. The gasps and moans become muted, with Jon trying to bury his face against the sheets. Daisy roughly pulls his hair until she can see part of his face. There are tears gathering in his eyes, but that’s not what either of them needs right now. Daisy digs her nails into the skin of his waist and subtly adjusts her position. 

“This is what you deserve,” Daisy snarls through gritted teeth, “for being such a wretched little thing.”

“Daisy,” he begs, sniffling.

“You’re just a pitiful waste of space who can’t do anything right,” Daisy tells him. “Except for this. At least I can get some use out of you like this.”

She shifts, knowing the new angle will push Jon over the edge, relishing in the way he keens when it does. But she’s not done yet. She’s close, can feel herself dripping wet in her pants, but she still has to break him. 

So Daisy jerks Jon’s head back by the hair, just briefly, enough to shock him from his afterglow and warn him of what’s coming next. Then she shoves him face down into the sheets and kicks at his legs, using her free hands to grab one of his wrists and wreck all sense of balance he might’ve had. Jon collapses onto the bed, lying flat as Daisy settles her weight on him. “Here’s your last chance,” she pants into his ear. “You know what I want, don’t you Jon?”

“Please, please,” Jon babbles, “wait- j-just, just wait, I can’t-”

“You will,” she tells him, then snakes her hand between his body and the bed. Her fingers find his cock, swollen and hot. As soon as she touches it, Jon’s breath becomes telling, hitching as he tries and fails to keep it all inside. Daisy pulls back just enough to put force behind her thrusts. She fucks him into the bed as she jerks him off, fingers wringing out his second orgasm along with his tears. 

The moment when Daisy hears Jon finally let go, finally break beneath her, is one she covets and hoards jealously. It begins with a pathetic little whine that starts in his chest, which grows into a wet sob in his throat that he tries and fails to suppress it. Then, when she gets him like this, there’s no defense left. He simply crumples, the sobs going through his entire body like tremors. The hitching of his breath as he attempts to catch it sends little jolts down his spine, making him rock back against Daisy, who’s finally pushed over the edge. She grinds against his ass and shoves her face against his neck so she can hear everything while she comes in sharp, satisfying jolts.

A violent thrill of satisfaction threatens to overtake Daisy, but instead she leaves it to mix pleasantly with the remnants of her orgasm. Moving a bit slowly, Daisy rolls off of Jon, carefully pulling out. He immediately curls up, drawing his knees closer to his chest as he hides his face and cries. 

Carefully, Daisy gets up off the bed and leaves him there, heading into the bathroom to remove her harness, closing the door behind her. This part’s a bit tricky, and worry buzzes around in the back of her mind as she uses the toilet and washes her hands. 

Once her boxers are back up, Daisy stands, ear to the door, listening. For a while it’s still too quiet. Then she hears the sobbing, heavy and earnest, attempting to be smothered. 

Exiting the bathroom, Daisy finds Jon curled around her big pillow. His entire body shakes with the ferocity of his weeping. Daisy makes sure she’s quick in fetching water and the big, soft blanket she keeps tucked away just for this. She washes it with a different soap than the cheap stuff she uses. Personally she hates the smell - too close to mothballs - but for some reason it helps Jon relax. 

Soon Daisy returns, tossing the blanket onto the bed and setting the water down. She sits against the headboard and pulls Jon into her lap. It looks like he’s trying his best to sink into the pillow, but there’s no resistance when Daisy gently pries his arms off of it. 

“Oh, hush,” she tells him, keeping her voice low and soft as she wipes his eyes and offers him the glass of water. “Catch your breath, then drink.”

It takes a minute, but Jon manages. As he carefully sips his water, Daisy grabs the blanket and proceeds to wrap him up as best as she can while keeping his arms mostly free. Once the cup is mostly empty, she takes it from him and pets his hair. He leans back in her arms and sniffles, wiping at his face with one corner of the blanket. 

Eventually, from his little nest, Jon blearily offers a, “Thank you,” to which Daisy scoffs. “Really,” Jon insists, trying to catch her eye. “I, ah, needed this. It’s been... a long week.”

“Mm.” Daisy shrugs. “Just my job.”

“Yes, well.” 

“Can you manage the rest of your water?”

“I think so.”

While Jon is carefully sipping the last of his water, Daisy licks her lips and says, “Alright, so. You wanna actually talk about it?” 

This sort of thing doesn’t happen often, outside of her time with Jon. Daisy isn’t anyone’s therapist, nor should she be. Besides, half the time she’s expected to just leave once she gives her subs what they need. Most of them prefer it that way, and Daisy is more than happy to fuck off. 

With Jon, though… Well, they’ve been doing this for quite a while, enough to where Daisy actually knows things about him outside of their respective bedrooms. It’s also a bit harder to leave him without asking, given his entire problem - and hence, the reason they do this in the first place - is his relative inability to actually talk about the way things make him feel. Daisy wonders if there’s anyone else who gets to see Jon like this, fucked out and teary-eyed, pliant enough to actually talk about his feelings without all the weird hang-ups that make him seem so high-strung. 

At her question, Jon just sighs. “Like I said, this week has been a bit of a nightmare. And today was… I was awful, today. I let all of the stress get to me and my work and my assistants suffered for it.”

“Ah.” 

“Especially- well...” 

Daisy has never been particularly patient; she jostles him when he trails off, then digs a hand into his cocoon to pinch at his side. “Keep talking, or I’ll get bored of you.”

“I just messed some things up,” Jon insists. “Misfiled documents, couldn’t stay focused or organized… And then I, ah, I got in an argument with Tim about something totally asinine, and it really wasn’t necessary, I just- I didn’t understand why he was so mad, but- but then, later, I was still upset. And Martin misplaced something, and none of us could find it, and I sort of… I-”

“You bite his head off?” Daisy says.

Jon pouts, glaring at the little bit of her cleavage that was visible where he lay tucked into her shoulder. “Yes. And then I pronounced the entire day a failure and stormed off like a toddler throwing a tantrum.” 

“Wow.” 

“Yes, wow indeed.”

“Isn’t that Martin fellow the one you’re sweet on?”

Jon twists until he can hide his face against Daisy’s shoulder. “Hrmfph.” 

“I thought we talked about this. Y’know, not yelling at the guy you like.” 

“Daisy.”

Daisy chuckles, then pats Jon’s shoulder. “Too late to do much about it now,” she tells him. “The day is done. You’ve got all weekend to cook up a good apology, I expect.”

“...Yes. I should do that, shouldn’t I?”

“I’m sure that’s what any decent person would say you should do.” 

Jon doesn’t respond again, merely closes his eyes and lets out a big, long sigh. Daisy leaves him alone for a bit, taking the time to settle down, too. It isn’t super late, but she’s not keen on driving Jon home. Eventually she shifts, grumbling a bit, and says, “Okay. Shower, I think.”

Jon makes a small noise of reluctance, but doesn’t argue, rolling out of Daisy’s grip so she can stand. Except she doesn’t let him, catching her little bundle of Jon before he can get too far. “No, no, you’re coming along.”

Jon blinks at her in surprise. “But you don’t- uh, I don’t really need it.”

“If you want me to share the bed with you, then we both need a shower. I’d rather just knock it out in one. Come on,” Daisy insists, already tired of debating it with him. She turns and walks into the bathroom, trusting Jon to be close behind. In truth, Daisy hates being any degree of naked around others; she especially hates having their naked, wet bodies sliding up against her own. But washing Jon’s hair basically turns him into a mindless puddle - it works literally every time. She’d give them both a proper scrub under the hot water, wash Jon’s hair, and he’d be out like a light before she could put him in pajamas. 

Besides, it’s kind of nice, sometimes, to have Jon with her in the shower. To see him standing there, naked and small, and utterly relaxed beneath her hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! i had a blast writing this, so if you liked it, i'd love to hear your thoughts~ 
> 
> CWs:  
> > safewords/boundaries for the scene are pre-established and not shown in the fic itself  
> > the start of the scene is, more or less, a roleplay of domestic abuse  
> > there are moments which could be read as dubcon/cnc, specifically later on when jon is getting overwhelmed and asks daisy to wait, while she pushes him until he cries  
> > at the start it is established that touching jon's cock is a 'maybe/yellow' action; daisy takes a chance in touching him there w/o checking in a second time


End file.
